Pragmatism's Sacrifice
by Miss Kick
Summary: Pawns are moved into place; sacrifices are made. Hera's opening move has left Percy Jackson alone and amnesiac. The only thing pushing him forward is the memory of a girl named Art. Lauded and revered, despised and cursed, it is up to Percy to shape his own destiny - and whether he likes it or not, Olympus's. Follows the Son of Neptune.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the works of Rick Riordan, or any affiliated franchises of his works. This story is solely based on the fictional characters created by him and is not intended for any monetary gain.

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How do you do, y'all. Miss Kick here with a story idea! I like to make chapters a little bit longer than most, so bear with me here. Here's an idea I've been toying around with for a while, and I hope you enjoy what I've written for you.

Like any writer, I love reviews! Please leave a few words if you'd like to see anything in the story, criticize me for any writing or plot choices, or anything else! Thanks!

 **I've started writing very recently, and as a result, I'd like to coordinate timing with a beta reader so we can enhance the quality of this. If you're interested, please don't hesitate to email or message me through this site.**

 **This is also extremely important. I will establish the relationship between Percy and Artemis as the story continues through the use of interludes, but please don't be confused. YOU HAVEN'T MISSED ANYTHING! :)**

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 **Pragmatism's Sacrifice**

Prologue

Chessmasters

 _fancy what a game of chess would be if all the chessmen had passions and intellects_

 _if you were not only uncertain about your adversary's men, but a little uncertain also about your own_

 _yet this imaginary chess is easy compared with the game a man has to play against his fellow-men_

((+))

Marble.

Gold.

Twelve figures on their thrones _(prisons)_.

Only one took action.

Maybe they won't fall _(as quickly)_.

((+))

Hera was tired. So very tired.

Breaking ancient laws did not have much of an effect on her, with her power and standing on the council. But alongside a debilitating headache (Juno), its side effects were quite lasting. The last time she had taken slumber would have to have been…

In a very mortal fashion, the immortal being shook her head. The name of the era was escaping her. To top it off, she could feel her very essence, the very character of Juno trying to escape from her innards. She steadied herself, before flicking her wrist, sending a boy with blonde hair and a purple t-shirt flying into an oak tree, instantly knocking him out.

Her champion, Jason.

She was often asked by her Roman colleagues why she favored the boy. A grin of malice rose to her cheeks.

She did not make the boy her champion because she loved him. For each praise from a mortal, were a thousand curses from monsters, immortals, and death. Because the job of a champion, a legend, is to lead and stay strong yet crumble while watching your friends scream and bleed and cry and die and suffer and sacrifice and _(why couldn't it stop-)_

She steadied herself once more. Juno was getting bolder, and beginning to break the barrier of Hera's subconscious with thoughts. Despite Juno's more warlike tendencies, Hera couldn't help but laugh at the irony; Juno was much more compassionate than she, and thus, Hera, the forgotten goddess of marriage, was already stronger than her. This was reflected in Juno's lack of the ability to seize control, but Hera was often debilitated by these headaches caused by the rebellious Roman aspect.

Focusing on the task on hand, she thrust her hand forward, and slowly raised it, bringing the Son of Zeus _(JupiterJupiterJupiter)_ closer to her. She placed on finger on his head, planting the memories she had prepared, and wiping all the memories she had made, making sure to allow the demigod to retain most of his abilities.

She half-snorted in annoyance and half-smirked, remembering the time in which she had completely forgotten to do this. The demigod had forgotten how to walk, talk, or even crawl, and was promptly impaled by a measly Dracanae.

She had two more visits to make that night. But the most important part of the plan lay in the hands of her step-daughter. She hoped that she would be able to complete her part of the deal.

Hera didn't trust her much, but she had no choice. She knew Artemis was close to the Greek boy - closer than she would let on, and certainly much closer than Apollo would be comfortable with - and this would incentivize her to take the boy and hide.

But she was betting on the untapped side of Artemis _(DianaDianaDiana)._ The side that respected the right of the hunter to carve through a forest to reach its target. She knew of the moon deity's moral code, the Hunter's Code, but considering her track record with a certain son of Poseidon recently, that Code was certainly void now, and thus, an incorrect reason to trust her.

She also believed that Artemis was the only one who surely wouldn't kill the boy.

She wondered why Artemis was favored in the Council. Even though she firmly believed that the male species was inherently inferior to women, she still garnered respect from most of the male gods, save Ares, though she knew that some of that respect was born of fear, not love. Was Hera not as eloquent, or influential, or beautiful, or effective as the goddess of the hunt? What did she lack compared to her? Hera knew her jealousy and zealotry knew no bounds, but she was justified _(nononono)_ , right?

Hera clutched her head where she felt the burst of pain. She had been ignoring Juno until now, but she now realized her mistake. Juno's constant thoughts, such as "nononono" and Roman addendums to Greek names, were simply just propulsions attempting to break the barrier of the subconscious. Juno had been successful, and Hera could feel the influx of new thoughts, memories, and ideas into her conscious.

She froze.

She could hear screaming as she saw Juno's memories appear before her.

Blood.

The malicious grin of Mother Earth.

A ship of bronze.

The moon.

The son of Neptune.

Twelve Olympians in their throne room _(prison)_.

((+))

3 A.M.

A figure stood at the top of half-blood hill.

Strands of auburn hair billowed in the cool breeze, covering her slightly pointed ears and the upper-right side of her face, veiling one of her silvery-yellow irises. Her cheekbones were not prominent, but every feature of her face was defined and dangerously precise. Thin, full eyebrows. A slightly upturned nose, ending in a point that was often rumoured to be sharper than the cleanest sword. Thin lips, usually pointed downward in a grimace. Her defined jawline was accentuated by smooth, lively, and blemish-free skin. Those who were ignorant would call her extremely attractive, but lately she had failed to find many in the Greek world who make such a mistake.

Her plain garb was form-fitting and practical for hunting, with no loose areas of clothing. Her obsidian-colored shirt had no sleeves to interfere with the twirling of hunting knives or the notching of a bow, and her collar high to prevent the rustling of silver-tipped arrows in her intricate quiver against her smooth, thin neck.

While Hera exuded raw power and regality, the figure, despite her young form of sixteen years old, represented a different type of power: her aura seemed cunning, cold, and precise. Yet at the same time, the figure radiated a sense of serene calm, as if nothing could trigger this precise strength.

Artemis knew that Hera played a very dangerous game.

She also knew that her dearest step-mother had no love, little respect, and very little trust in her. She suspected the only reason Hera did not send another god is because she trusted only Artemis not to outright kill Perseus Jackson. Even if she took the man _(boy)_ and ran _(like the coward she was)_ for the forests or towards a land untouched by the gods, he would still be alive _(unfortunately)._

Even the boy's father might have killed him to stop him from enduring the painful trials before him _(which he deserved)_.

Artemis clutched her head. Recently, Diana had become much more proactive in voicing her opinions regarding Artemis's every thought and action, particularly regarding a certain son of Poseidon. She had forgotten when Diana had started to become much more vocal in her taunting, but she assumed it had started when he was nineteen, three years after the defeat of Kronos. Her Roman aspect would torment her for leaving behind centuries of chastity and purity.

Artemis sighed. The four years between today and the defeat of Kronos had passed by very quickly, even for an immortal being. The eight months or so between that fateful day when Percy was eighteen and now had gone even quicker.

She pretended not to hear the rumours on Olympus, the whining of satyrs, the whispering of her hunters, and the curses of the Athena girl.

His father said she had led him astray. To be truthful, Artemis had no idea which one of them had pulled the other away from their typical life. And it scared her. In normal mortal-godly relations, the mortal was the one who had pulled the god from their way of life, to lead them astray from their typical lives. The mortal was the one that pulled the god, what the god was attracted to, and after the months of passion, the god would leave.

Despite no prior romantic pursuits, Artemis was not unintelligent and understood the swaying of hearts of gods and mortals alike, and the one thing that always seemed to hold true between the two is that the one who had been 'pulled' would always push away. And thus, because she didn't know which one of them had been 'pulled' by the other, she didn't know which one would eventually push away.

She didn't want to be the one left hurting.

Artemis couldn't even decide if whether she regarded the boy as a plaything or not, something to amuse an immortal being of her caliber.

From her spot on the hill, she could see the house of the one who had caused such worries within her. Cabin Three stood proudly, despite its lack of height or regality compared to Cabins One and Two. The light-blue paint chipped a little too much on one side, and she could have sworn the cabin's walls were on a slant, but this was...home?

Instinctively, she shuddered at that thought.

Though she reluctantly trudged down the hill, her foot placement was as perfect as ever, avoiding even the rustling of grass with her hunter's grace. As she walked the pavilion, she noticed that the camp was eerily quiet. The antics in the Hermes cabin had calmed down for the night, and no screams or music could be heard from the ever-rambunctious Ares cabin.

She stood in front of Cabin Three. A rusting bronze "3" could be seen hanging from a nail above the doorway, slightly swaying back and forth in the now chilly breeze.

She let out a deep breath, and could see light wisps of the fogging of her breath. With a small tinge of nervousness that she would never admit, she knocked. She could feel the sound resonate within the cabin, before a familiar groan and thumping increasing in volume towards her.

The wooden door hastily swung open.

Artemis' breath hitched for a moment, before giving a sigh and raising her eyebrows after noticing what was in his hands..

A fit man stood before her, almost a head and a half taller than her. His attire was to be expected (only shorts). Had Artemis been a normal girl, she would have stared, even ogled, at the man's defined upper body, but she had long forgotten the longing for such things. No, her gaze was directed at the man's face.

Piercing sea-green eyes that seemed to stare right into her soul. Unkempt, charcoal hair that never lightened a shade and was dreadfully uncombable. A distinct jawline, and a ragged beard that had been forgotten to be shaved.

Perseus Jackson.

He initially did a double take and rubbed his eyes, not believing the identity of the girl, but once it had set in, a crooked smile rose to his face, revealing his happiness.

Noticing the girl's raised eyebrows, he sighed, and tossed Riptide onto one of the unused beds.

"I thought it was one of the cleaning Harpies, or worse, the Stolls," he shrugged after her eyebrows did not lower.

Percy calmly observed her eyes for a minute, before speaking up. "Do you need something, Art?" Artemis could sense the hidden worry within him, but he masked it with a facade of surprise.

"Could you step outside? We have much to discuss."

"Uh...sure, come on in. Lemme get changed," the son of Poseidon hesitantly said, awkwardly backing away into the bathroom.

Artemis sighed. It was hard to describe what _they_ were, and the continuing awkwardness from Percy did not really contribute to a feeling of belonging. Artemis knew that some of the blame resided within herself. She was distant - cold would be an exaggeration - from him and she briefly wondered how immortals and mortals could relate to one another. He would talk about his troubles at University and other mortal interests, but she could barely register or even force herself to be engaged.

She chalked the success of _them_ up to the possibility she was interested in his character, instead of his passions and interests.

Deciding not to dwell on what was ambiguous, she focused on her surroundings. For a male, Percy had done a great job keeping this place spick and span, though she suspected it was only to please her. Unlike the outside of the cabin's peeling paint and rotting wood, the inside was nicely furnished. A new coat of dark blue paint had been applied to the interior, and the sole inhabitant's belongings were all nicely stowed in a suitcase against the wall. Every bed was made, except for the closest one to the door, which she assumed Percy had been sleeping in.

In the corner of her eye, Artemis noticed the glistening of celestial bronze. She snapped her head towards it, instantly recognizing the blade. _Anaklusmos._ The betrayer.

((+))

When Artemis had shown up on his doorstep, Percy didn't know what to think.

Usually, she would let him know at least a week ahead of time when she planned to show up. She never did the dreaded "pop-in."

He smiled wryly. He didn't deny he liked her, but it was ironic that even in immortal-mortal relationships, where one party could read the mind of the other, a lack of communication often led to things spiraling out of control. Artemis, or Art, as he had fashioned into a nickname, didn't really get mad often. In fact, they had never had an 'argument,' but he didn't know how long that was going to last. He knew she could sense the apprehension rolling off from him in waves. After all, 'we have much to discuss,' he reckoned, was the immortal equivalent of 'we need to talk,' which never boded well for many relationships.

He resumed running water through his mouth. In trying to open the package of cologne after throwing on an orange CHB shirt, he had inadvertently gotten some into his mouth. Shaking away the tingling, burning sensation, he slowly opened the door.

He noticed the outside door remained open, and he made his way towards it. Art was likely outside.

By no means was a demigod's life normal, but Art was a large deviation from that. She wasn't really in favor of affection, only conversation. Date night, if you could call it that, was even weirder. He was sure Artemis still had nightmares from the time she wanted to teach him how to shoot, if that was even possible for an immortal. They went hunting together twice, but Percy's foot placement, rustling, and complaining seriously aggravated the huntress, though she was careful not to make an outburst.

That moment spoke volumes to Percy. She could've smited him, he noted dryly, but she didn't. Thus...she liked him? It seemed like a gap in logic initially, but immortals were not too much different than mortals, he had noted.

They had tried things the mortal way twice, but Percy realized that despite his tendency to attract trouble, Art was a ticking time bomb. They had watched a movie, but she couldn't stop talking throughout the movie and complaining about subtle acts of male chauvinism. And the other time, the waiter had given her a smile and ended up on the floor.

Despite the camp's barriers, Percy could feel the cool breeze brushing over him as he stepped outside, his sandaled feet slipping onto the rock with a conspicuous _flop._

A smirk and another raised eyebrow from Artemis, before she motioned for him to walk alongside her.

The walk to the beach, their unspoken agreed upon meeting place, was rather uneventful. They had conversed about recent developments regarding their lives. Percy tried to remain attentive during her rambling about a particular concern, but he could feel the nagging and pushing on his mind from the desire to sleep.

He instead focused on observing her face. The moon, uncharacteristically, was only dimly lit, and Percy guessed that there was something seriously wrong. The unplanned visit, the excessive awkwardness that was still lingering. He could still see the outline of her face, beautiful as ever, especially her upturned, pointed nose.

"Hey, I can't exactly read minds," Percy instinctively blurted, while sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "But I can tell when something is bothering someone. What's up?"

Artemis looked at him with shock, and even a speck of rage at his audacity, but she slowly smiled and shook her head. "Even after all these months, Percy, I still don't understand your personality."

As an afterthought, she added. "I suppose that is what initially drew me to you. Unpredictability."

Percy wanted to smile, but for now he kept that knowledge and stored it to celebrate later. "That still doesn't really explain what's up?" It was more of a statement than a question, and seemed like it had been said by an overbearing parent to a rebellious child.

They had reached the beach now, and Artemis had reached the sand, staring out to the sea's vast expanse.

"Hera...has a plan."

"About?"

She paused, silver eyes glistening in the dim moonlight. "It...it is difficult to explain clearly. But I can say this. She has a plan, one so audacious that most of the Olympians would vote to exile her. A plan that will cause much pain. But one that will save Olympus."

Percy's eyes lit up with surprise, before simmering down instantly. "Tell me about it," he chuckled. "This isn't the first problem us half-bloods have had to deal with."

"You do not understand, Percy. Gaea, the Earth goddess is rising. Our victory over the titans was only the beginning. The second Giant war approach-"

"Wait a minute," Percy interrupted. Artemis raised another eyebrow at him, and he found himself nervously laughing again. "You're telling me Mother Earth is evil?"

"Very much so."

"So, like, why aren't we dead right now?"

"Because she's in a deep state of slumber."

"Oh."

Artemis giggled, and Percy craned his neck to look at her from his position on the dunes. "I thought this enemy was all, like, 'oh, we're gonna exile Hera, ruin my life, destroy your loved ones,' and you're giggling?"

"It's just that your answer was extremely intelligent, and I found it necessary to condemn you."

"Well, looks like my sarcasm's rubbing off on you," Percy muttered matter-of-factly.

They sat in silence, simply watching the waves lap up against the shoreline.

((+))

The silence was broken by Artemis.

"Uh, Percy…..there's actually, uh, another part to the plan," Artemis mumbled. She noticed that this was rather uncharacteristic of her, and she wanted to mentally berate herself.

"Would it have to do anything with the vial you're fiddling with?"

Surely enough, Artemis could feel the vial she was holding, so tightly that her knuckles turned white and every vein in her hand was visible.

The vial containing Percy's new memories.

She was tempted to ask him to run away with her. He would be safe from any Olympian in her palace, and she could admire or play with the boy for all eternity or until she was bored of him. Or she could save the boy from a large range of suffering by dumping him in the sea, telling him to never look back.

She made the mistake of glancing into his eyes. Unpredictable, indeterminate as ever, but she could feel the emotions rolling off of them.

 _Devotion_ that she did not deserve.

 _Curiosity_ that she could not sate.

 _Trust_ that she could not betray.

 _Loyalty_ that she could not forget.

And in that moment, she knew what to do. She grasped his hand, watching him look at her in shock and maybe apprehension, before settling in and smiling. She dryly noted that this was one of the first times she had publicly shown affection, even though much more important thoughts were on hand.

As she savored the feeling of calloused hands, her free hand went behind her and flicked the lid of the vial off, before, with the speed and grace of a huntress, tipping the liquid into the demigod's mouth.

She sighed as the demigod looked at her, feelings of betrayal bubbling in his chest, before promptly closing his eyes and going limp.

It was done.

She sent a spark towards the moon, watching it turn from its current shade of dark gray to a tint of crimson.

((+))

From her position above the trees, Hera could see the moon darken a tad, before becoming crimson. She had no thoughts regarding any mortal concerns, though an indescribably small part of her knew that this would be chalked up by mortals as a freak solar flare, unexpected eclipse, or anything but the truth.

She looked down at the earth. She could hear the trees rustling for miles in every direction.

The earth rumbled to her, and Hera swore that the shaking included malice directed towards herself. Her grandmother seemed to be mocking her, though she was sure that the primordial goddess was still long asleep, only stirring for moments at a time.

"My fellow Olympians won't act, but I have taken my time amassing my pawns, Gaea. As we speak, they are locating to their proper positions, ready to strike against you."

The hissing of the earth could be plainly heard, as Gaea's words blighted the ground with malevolence.

"You have pawns indeed, my grandaughter. Let us hope that they are not just simple sacrifices for their queen."

The earth rumbled again, strongly, as if it was laughing, before fading out into nothing. Dead silence laced within the air, and the rustling of leaves was oddly gone.

Two chessmasters, each uniquely poised to influence the game before them. Gaea had made her first move decades ago, when she had unearthed Alcyoneus, but Hera knew her first move was a strong and unpredictable one. She knew that Gaea had knowledge regarding Jackson's and Jason's switch, but she steeled her nerves.

She would steal the second move.

But was it _too late_...

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Thanks for reading everyone! I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review, and if you are interested in beta reading, send me a message.

\- Miss Kick


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